A gay sex stories: Cock-Sucker: Tales Of Euro-Sex TALES OF EURO-SEX
by
TRISTAN TROTSKY
I was attending a writer’s workshop in the La Croix-Rousse area of the beautiful French city of Lyon. During the day I meander through the city, enjoying the Loire valley sunshine, wandering a maze of cobbled lanes, small side streets, investigating the bookshop of Le Bal des Ardents, then checking out L’Horloge de Guignol, a rather fascinating timepiece installed outside the Gadagne Museum. In the evening, I find myself talking in the hotel reception with a heavy-built French erotic writer — probably in his mid-fifties, he was hugely amused and proud to show me a website he’d created which rates his ex-wives and girlfriends on their cock-sucking skills. He thought the idea was immensely entertaining, and — of course, I was intrigued.
After a while I suggest that maybe I should be rated against the girls on his list. He guffaws at the idea, looking at me in a curiously uncertain way, but when I make it obvious that I’m serious he comes over all dubious, eyeing me up and down suspiciously. Later in the evening he returns and asks me again if I’m entirely on the level. When I assure him that I am he quietly invites me back to his room. Purely for research purposes, of course.
He’s still nervous and unsure, he walks up and down the room in an agitated way as I sit meekly waiting on the bed. The window opens out onto a Juliet balcony allowing ancient Bougainvillea aroma to slowly scent the room with its intoxicating richness.
‘You’ve done this sort of thing before?’ he asks me.
I smile, ‘my prose-work is renowned for it’ I concede with mock-modesty. ‘Britain may have pulled out of Europe but I’ve never believed in withdrawal, not for a moment.’
Eventually, as though he’s come to a decision, he unbuckles his belt and half-drops his pants to his knees, letting me have my way. He has a bit of a belly, he is very hairy, and it’s not a very beautiful cock, I’ve certainly had bigger and more vigorous cocks in my mouth, but mindful that my performance ability is being rated I do my best to make it a great experience for him, sucking, licking, deep-throating him, fondling his fat balls, using my tongue and tiny nips of my teeth. As I suck him he gains confidence and relaxes.
He lies back on the bed, and as I get really energetic on that cock, he begins grunting and making little fuck-motions into my mouth, until I feel the tell-tale tremors begin, and I clamp my lips in tight around the pulsing shaft as he cums in three powerful spurts into my mouth — for such an unprepossessing cock his ejaculation is impressive, I swallow and continue sucking until he eases back and slowly loses his rigidity.
Afterwards, he brusquely offers me a drink from a well-stocked bar-cabinet, a courtesy I decline, preferring to savour the taste of his cum-nectar on my tongue. As though relieved, he hurriedly ushers me out of his room. But the following day, in my own room, I log onto his website to discover my name is now no.1 on the list! There’s immediate irate email feedback from his ex-wife who was in the top slot but is now at no.2, and also the girlfriend who was no.3 and is now no.4. They’re angry, not only at their demotion, but by the fact that it is a guy who sucks cock better than they do! Last I heard he’d taken the website down to reconsider his options…
When the Lyon weekend is done, before returning home I take advantage of an invitation to spend time in northern Italy. Signore Marinetti made his fortune from his collusion in government corruption, he has a villa with extensive grounds in Lombardy, where he poses as a benefactor of the arts. He writes literary gay pornography which he self-publishes in lavish volumes and he hosts elegant parties for decadent celebrity movie directors, fashion designers and artists. He has household staff and security, and at any given time he has up to eight late-teenage boys for ‘hosting’. Once they are of legal age, he buys them from Rumania or perhaps Turkey.
They are chosen for their looks, and naturally for the size of their cocks, obviously that is what matters when he’s choosing a favourite, the bigger the better. Often the boys had been pimped by their families. Once in the grounds they’re kept naked with regular sexual roles and disciplines to fulfil as part of their induction programme. Aptitude is important. If they have no natural erotic skills or talents, they’re quite free to return to the poverty and squalor of their home villages. Few of them take that option. Eventually, once they’re fully ‘broken in’, they will be passed on to elite ‘escort agencies’ or to brothels in Amsterdam, Rome or London, where they’re prized and fetch a good transfer fee. Despite his undeniably sinister aspects, Signore Marinetti is efficient at what he does, and he enjoys his lifestyle.
He has frequent stay-over guests — such as myself, who naturally observe, sample and are encouraged to take part in the activities. But the boys also have a rota to fulfil that includes sucking each other off, giving or taking anal on a regular acclimatizing basis. So that while guests sip martinis on the patio enveloped in swirls of Italian opera, they might glimpse random coupling take place in the gardens or around the pool as the naked youths frolic and satisfy each other. Guests are served drinks by naked youths, and invited to fondle them. No request is denied. Evening parties and entertainment leads to each guest being supplied with at least one boy with which to spend the night.
I was fortunate enough to have been a guest at the villa on a number of occasions, and naturally avail myself of its delights to the fullest extent of which I’m capable. Pretending an air of nonchalance I sit engaged in conversation about commerce or art while sipping expensive wines and nibbling delicious cannoli, while casually observing the antics of nude boys by the pool. In the evening there’s a divertimento — a teen-boy daisy-chain, then a playful cock-roulette competition in which a circle boys compete against each other in oral-sex games to our applause and encouragement.
All the while my attention is drawn to one exceptional boy, although dark-haired and shy-looking he seems singularly adept at enjoying sex, and he has a particularly beautiful cock. He’s especially pretty with his friend’s big cock lodged in his mouth. Cock and mouth seem to make the perfect match. I was eyeing him up as a candidate to take to bed. Naturally I feign indifference until the evening’s final moments when called upon to select a bed-mate, but… oh, him, Giovanni or Mario, and he follows me obediently with a nervous smile, as though wondering what I will do to him?
Oh — I intend doing everything, as the mood takes me. Just seeing the way his cock sways attractively as he paces with androgynous feline grace along the carpet has my teeth aching with desire. The bedroom has a private balcony looking out over countryside rolling down towards a lake that glitters in the bright sunshine. There’s a bowl of condoms and tubes of flavoured lube. We don’t need the condoms.